Staring off aimlessly into the red setting sun of the Tuscan hills, I contemplated my column for The CJN. Lord knows there is much to write about.
Statistics Canada reported a noticeable uptick in anti-Semitic hate crimes, as well as an unprecedented increase in violent attacks against Muslims. People of colour have fared no better.
My fear that the Trump presidency has opened the door for hate and bigotry seems to prove itself daily. Terrorist attacks and fears of extreme right-wing violence continue, Islamophobic parents in Mississauga, Ont., targeted a local high school with vile, racist signs and slogans, simply because the school board provided prayer rooms for Muslim students.
But it’s summer time. My wife Karyn and I recently found ourselves ensconced with two other couples, friends of ours for over 35 years, in Il Troscione, Italy, a villa not far from San Casciano dei Bagni. We had been planning this trip for about a year, to celebrate our collective “special birthdays.” I simply decided not to let the ills of the world intrude on these 10 days, the last three of which we spent in Paris.
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It is said that you can never go hungry or thirsty in Italy. The reddest, sweetest tomatoes on earth (a vegetable I never before chose to eat) are grown in the country and I devoured them. Wine is as common as water is in Canada. Each night, we consumed more than our fair share, feasting on pasta, ripe vegetables doused in freshly pressed pure virgin olive oil and the most incredible balsamic vinegar I have ever tasted.
Our home away from home was nestled off a winding switchback road that’s typical of Tuscany. The dirt trail leading to the villa is marked only by a stone wall. We were driving a Ford van with nine seats. It was obviously much larger than most of the vehicles driving the roads. The pathway to the villa is three kilometres from the main road and the drive is full of bumps, jolts, twists and breathtaking scenery.
The six of us, though never having traveled together, were comfortable with each other. We planned one winery tour before we left and decided to play the rest of the week by ear.
The winery tour came on the day after we arrived. Our wine sommelier/tour guide, Davide, was only 27, but had a professorial knowledge of all things wine related. We began our day travelling to the fabled town of Montepulciano. Located in the province of Siena, like many villages in the region, it was built on a hill – in this case, a 600-metre-high limestone ridge. It is renowned for its wine production.
We toured the 1.5-kilometre main street that took us to the top of the hill, which had a glorious view of the countryside. After a lunch of Caprese salad, pasta, white wine, crème caramel and espresso, we made our way to the Villa Sant’Anna Winery.
Run entirely by women, the estate produces some of the finest Vino Nobile and Poldo in the country. (Sadly, the LCBO liquor stores in Ontario choose not to carry this winery’s fare. What a shame.)
Other days were spent exploring the countryside. The fabled town of Orvieto, with its storied cathedral, iconic Star of David at its front gates and its Etruscan ruins, was breathtaking. We visited a market in Chianciano Terme and, while navigating back through the town, found our minibus wedged in an alley with only inches to spare. A tense, slow drive resulted, but left no one worse for wear.
Our time in Paris was filled with museums, food and wine. But life intervened on our last day. Approaching the Champs Elysee, we were caught in the middle of a terrorist incident. In contrast to other recent attacks in France, the only victim in this one was the terrorist, but it still shook us to our core.
We have been back now for weeks. But I still dream of the Tuscan hills. They’re good for the soul, and for the heart.
